


The Oxymoron

by sharehenstar



Series: Flowers of Adversity [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (In A Vulcan Sort of Way), Bromance to Romance, Epic Bromance, F/M, M/M, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Pre-Five Year Mission, Protective Jim, Protective Spock, Slow Build, Smart Kirk, Strange Dreams, They're Also Protective Idiots Who Are Falling In Love, They're Both Protective Idiots, Which Awesome!Sarek Notices and Teases the Hell Out of Them For, Xenophobic Vulcans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8296858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharehenstar/pseuds/sharehenstar
Summary: Two and a half months after the incident with Khan, Spock invites Jim to New Vulcan for his father’s bonding ceremony.  Soon, Jim has bigger worries than being Spock’s “plus one”…but isn’t that always the case?  [K/S, Kirk/Spock] [Pre-Five Year Mission]





	1. Of Passenger Shuttles and Presents

**Author's Note:**

> I had full intentions of starting this series properly—beginning to end, middle where it should be—but this particular installment simply would not leave me alone. Currently, I have at least four chapters completed, and plan to add on at least four more. I have included enough hints and background information that I hope it will tie in easily to the installments that both precede and follow it. One thing that you should know about the series itself is that it will be as much a love story between Jim and Spock as it will be a story about the individual characters' development. Please enjoy!

“Spock, Spock, wait up!”

Jim’s shout rang out in the busy shuttle bay as he attempted to squeeze through what seemed like half the Federation’s population on-planet, trying to catch up with his long-limbed friend who strode forward with an unwavering single-mindedness towards the passenger shuttle that would take them to New Vulcan.

Despite the din echoing throughout the structure and getting tossed from eave to eave, Spock’s stride paused, and he glanced around in multiple directions, before at last catching a glimpse of Jim over his shoulder.

Jim smirked crookedly and waved, nearly snorting in amusement when he realized he could see one delicate eyebrow raised at him and his illogical humanness even from across the hanger.

The expression promptly thereafter transformed into a not-scowl as the Vulcan was buffeted from several different directions by other occupants hurrying to get to their vessels, unaware that they had nearly trampled a Vulcan.

Jim frowned in concern, recalling that as a touch-telepath, places like this would be monumentally more uncomfortable for Spock than they would for him (and they already were uncomfortable _enough_ ).

After several seconds of dodging and weaving past the mass of life roiling between him and Spock, Jim finally made it to the Vulcan’s side.

Winded (yes, he _knew_ he shouldn’t be running so soon after recovery, shut up, Bones), Jim bent double and placed his hands on his knees, quietly sucking in several deep breaths as his Starfleet-issued duffle bag thumped against his hip.

The faintest trace of alarm entered Spock’s voice as he greeted, “Captain, you should not have overexerted yourself.  It is completely unnecessary to--”

“Spock,” Jim interrupted, once he had his breath back, amusement and fondness both decorating his tone as he glanced up, “Shut up, I’m fine.”

The Vulcan did not look convinced and the hand he had stretched out to assist wavered, “‘Fine,’ has variable definitions, Captain.”

Jim rolled his eyes and carefully straightened up, reaching for the strap of his bag and choosing to ignore the first part of that statement, “Spock, we’re on leave and you invited me to your family’s home—I _think_ that qualifies as a ‘Jim’ situation, don’t you?”

Spock dropped his hand and inclined his head, “Affirmative.  Jim.  Did we not agree to meet at the shuttle at 0800?”

Jim gave Spock a somewhat goofy smile, “Yeah, but I also know my First Officer, and my First Officer is almost always early to any sort of social engagement.  I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

If Vulcans were any more demonstrative, Spock’s expression would have qualified as extremely discomfited and embarrassed.  “Jim, that is highly illogical.  I would not be waiting if I did not expect you until 0800.”

Jim rolled his eyes again, “Well, we’re both here now, so that takes waiting completely out of the equation.  Here,” while they’d been talking, the human had started rifling through his duffle.  Now he surfaced with a slim package, which he proceeded to press into Spock’s hands, “These are for you.  I know it’s a little early--”

Spock blinked at Jim in what he now knew to be the Vulcan equivalent of shock, “Jim?  What is this?”

And fuck, now _Jim’s_ the one who’s embarrassed, “Um, your birthday present?”  He self-consciously rubbed the back of his head when the Vulcan continued to stare at him, averting his eyes from Spock’s gaze, “Bones—might have—been updating your medical file one day when he was monitoring me.  Apparently, er, M’Benga’s specialty is psionic energy and telepathic medicine.  Um…I think he requested to see your records?”

Spock inclined his head.

Scrubbing his sweaty palms on the thighs of his dark jeans, Jim continued, “Well, he thought Bones should, ah, _add_ a few things to your file.  You can imagine what Bones thought of that.  So while he was grousing, I, um, asked him when your birthday was.  I know we’ll be on New Vulcan for it, and I thought—maybe—it would be more logical to give you your gift now, rather than…” Jim gestured feebly at the path to their shuttle, determinedly _not_ looking at Spock.  His shoulders hunched at the lingering silence from the Vulcan, “You can tell me it was none of my business.”

A few more seconds of silence, then Spock cleared his throat.  When fingers touched his wrist, Jim hesitantly glanced up.

Spock’s dark eyes gazed at him, as gentle and as warm as they had been when Jim first woke up from his medically-induced coma, “Vulcans do not celebrate the day of our birth.”  Those fingers squeezed around Jim’s wrist, “But my mother always insisted on acknowledging it…both my own, and my father’s.  I appreciate your gesture, Jim.”

“Yeah?” with that confirmation, Jim’s shoulders relaxed, and a lopsided smile took up residence on his lips, “Will you open it, then?”

At that moment, the intercom crisply clicked on and startled both Jim and Spock out of their isolated bubble, “Attention, the spaceside shuttles to New Vulcan will depart in twenty minutes.  All spaceside shuttles bound for New Vulcan depart in twenty minutes.”

As the same message was repeated in Vulcan, Andorian, and Tellarite, Spock’s fingers slipped from Jim’s wrist.

Jim gave his friend a crooked smile, which Spock’s eyes returned, “Guess we’d better get going, huh?”

“I believe so, Jim,” Spock adjusted his own duffle bag and his grasp on the present.  His eyes gleamed warmly, “I shall open it on-board.”

When Spock inclined his head at the spot next to him, Jim grinned, and easily fell into step beside him, discreetly swinging out his bag so that any of their fellow passengers were deterred from wandering too close to his half-Vulcan XO.

IOIOIOIOIOI

“Gloves, Jim?”

Spock’s puzzlement was made plain in his voice, although Jim suspected he’d deny it if pressed.

Biting back an amused smile, Jim dropped into the seat beside Spock’s, pleased to note he had been assigned a window seat and highly suspect of his First Officer’s hand in the matter, “That’s only part of it, but yeah.  I figured…if we’re going to be travelling through shuttle bays packed with psi-nulls for the rest of the day, you’d appreciate the barrier.  Also, I know how cold you get when we’re in spaces not predominantly Vulcan, so I thought it would be a good gift to get you.”

Spock went quiet at the explanation, cheeks tinged green, before clearing his throat once more, “That was…most thoughtful of you, Jim, and I appreciate the effort you--”

Before Spock could stumble through the rest of his thanks, Jim nudged him lightly in the side, “Hey, stop.  You already thanked me once.  You don’t need to do it again, that’d be illogical,” the tease of a smile danced around Jim’s lips.

Spock’s cheeks tinged a darker green, and he placed the gloves in his lap, “Perhaps, Jim, but--”

Jim shook his head, a definite grin tugging at his lips now, “Nope, not gonna accept any until you’ve at least _looked_ at the rest of your present.”

“You did not need to get me anything at all, Jim,” Spock pointed out quietly, but nonetheless moved to lift the tissue paper concealing the rest of his gift in the box.

Jim eyed him sideways, “I _wanted_ to, Spock,” and bit his bottom lip as Spock finally glanced down at the present…and went completely and utterly still.

Transfixed, Jim watched as—after a few moments—a long, pale finger reached out to tenderly trace the face of the laughing woman in the old fashioned photograph.

Then it paused, and Spock tightly shut his eyes, “Jim.”

If his XO had been anything other than Vulcan, Jim would have called his voice strangled.

Nervously, he cleared his throat, “Your father was a surprisingly useful source for gift ideas, you know.  He implied that you had few photos left of your mother, so…so I asked him if he had any he would be willing to part with.  Turns out, your mother made him keep a town home Earthside.  He contacted your old…I guess she was your nanny, when you were little?”

Spock blinked rapidly, and nodded to indicate he knew to whom Jim referred.

Tilting his head, the human watched Spock thoughtfully, “M’Bessa takes care of that house now and sent the photo along to me," Jim paused an entire second, before cautiously shifting to press his shoulder against Spock’s, in hopes of offering his friend some comfort.  His voice softened, “The address to the town home is written on the back of the photo.  I-I can take you there one day, if you’d like.  It isn’t too far from San Francisco.”  Abruptly, Jim realized how presumptuous that sounded, and immediately flushed, “I—that is—if…if you even want—”

“Jim,” Spock quietly interrupted his rambling, brown eyes flashing open to intently regard his mortified Captain, “I would be gratified by your company.”

Jim’s throat tightened at the earnest expression adorning the Vulcan’s face (because damned if it wasn’t an actual _expression_ ) and he nodded.

Their eyes remained locked for an additional three full seconds afterward, before their silence was abruptly shattered by a booming, “Captain!  Captain James T. Kirk…!”

As heads started turning everywhere, and a heavyset, balding reporter (most likely the origin of that call) waded through the cabin towards them, Jim covered his eyes and groaned, slinking down in his seat (and in the process coming into full contact with Spock’s side), “We just can’t seem to shake them, can we, Mr. Spock?”

Although only Jim would be able to see it, Spock glanced down at his human companion in well-concealed amusement, watching as the younger man pulled himself upright and set his shoulders, “Indeed, Captain.”

If Spock’s arm came down to rest alongside Jim’s during the interview, neither Vulcan, nor human, made mention of it.

 

 

_ End Oxymoron (CH.1) _


	2. Interesting Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock does not practice subtlety and Jim is (unsurprisingly) okay with it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I like Beyond, I do wish there had been more interactions between Jim and Spock. Because of the lack of Spock-and-Jim-bonding (not to mention, the fact that they are the focus of this series, for the most part), the greater part of Flowers of Adversity will revolve around them, although Bones will definitely make an appearance, as will Nyota, in rather larger roles (if only in asides here). The Triumvirate has to form, after all, and I think Uhura is awesome in her own right (and therefore will depict her as such); please enjoy!

Jim’s eyes snapped open when the whine of the passenger shuttle’s engines changed in pitch, indicating a drop from warp to impulse speed.  He groaned softly and turned his face into the warmth against his cheek, “Wha’ time izzit?”

Spock’s quiet voice came from above his head, and Jim furrowed his brow as his hazy mind tried to comprehend why it sounded so much closer and deeper, “1343 ship’s time, Captain.  You have been asleep for 4.82 hours.”

Jim made a sound he hoped the Vulcan took as acknowledgement, and buried his nose in the fabric of…hadn’t he fallen asleep against the seat?  The seat back felt particularly…boney, if that were true, and he certainly didn’t remember it smelling like…Spock’s quarters…

“Holy shit!”

Spock stared a little as his Captain reeled sideways, lurching away from where he had spent those past 4.82 hours sleeping on Spock’s shoulder.

A quick, steadying hand on Jim’s side prevented him from diving nose-first into the unforgiving carpet beneath their feet.

As Spock’s hand slid from his ribs, the Vulcan eyed him curiously, “Jim, you are embarrassed.”

It was _almost_ a question, and Jim splayed a hand over his burning face to conceal it.  “No shit,” he muttered.

There went the Eyebrow, “I fail to see how excrement—and the lack thereof—is relevant to this situation.”

Despite everything, Jim chuckled, dropping his hand to face Spock with a cavalier attitude it was vastly apparent his First did not buy, “I don’t look pretty when I drool, Spock.”

The other eyebrow went up, “I have not detected any ‘drool,’ Captain, and you are as aesthetically pleasing as always.”

If Jim had any hope of regaining his dignity, it was utterly shot to hell now.

As blush blazed across his cheeks, the human scrambled to come up with a retort that would not emerge as a croak.

Fortunately, at that moment, the cabin’s intercom clicked on, “Attention please, arrival at Federation Starbase _Jamestown_ is imminent.  If you have a connecting shuttle, the digital kiosks opposite the exit ramp will direct you to your next gate.  All passengers bound for New Vulcan, please return to the shuttle bay and this gate at 1600.  Good day.”

As the intercom began its repeat in the standard Federation languages, Jim felt their transport settle on the titanium of the shuttle bay floor.  When the general (much louder) buzz of conversations filled the air around them, Jim stood up and leaned close to Spock’s ear, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the surrounding hubbub, “Let’s get something to eat…and avoid any unwelcome intrusions in the meantime!” added, as he caught sight of the same reporter from earlier determinedly making his way back to them.

Spock glanced up at his now-scowling companion and almost-smirked, “Indeed, Captain.”

Unable to maintain his scowl in the face of Spock’s (not) amusement, Jim rolled his eyes and nudged the Vulcan’s shoulder, “C’mon, let’s blow this scene.”

IOIOIOIOIOI

Eating with Spock and spending time with him outside of duty was a novelty Jim hadn’t often gotten to indulge in prior to his recovery and rehabilitation from the incident with Khan.  Now that he had experienced it, Jim was oddly loath to let it go.

He would not have expected it to be so _easy_ between them, given their inauspicious start, but for the past two and half months, with Spock’s acceptance of their friendship, Jim had begun to believe Ambassador Spock’s claim that the Vulcan would, in fact, become his “have been and always shall be” friend.  Even if the younger Spock had only verbally admitted it at the warp core and had yet to use those exact words.

Bones grumbled and groused about it, citing shared trauma and the psychological aftermath of recovery leading to a “Fucking astronomical level of co-dependence, Jim!”

(Jim thought he might still be annoyed at Spock for the Vulcan’s mule headed refusal to leave Jim’s side during the two weeks the human had been comatose, but sensed that, in his own way, Bones had become almost as fond of Spock as he was of Jim.)

It certainly helped that Spock could be fucking adorable, and yet utterly unaware of it.

By poking dubiously at a vegetarian selection from one of the food kiosks scattered throughout the _Jamestown_ , for instance, nose unconsciously wrinkled in distaste.

Jim smothered a laugh, “Spock, this close to New Vulcan, I would _hope_ they could prepare a decent vegetarian meal— _especially_ one that includes Vulcan dishes.”

Spock shot him a not-irritated glance from beneath too-long bangs, “Would you care to sample it, Captain?”

Jim grinned, amused by the understated sarcasm so vastly apparent to him, “No, thanks, I gotta get my fill of meat while I can.”  He took a large bite of the deluxe hamburger he’d ordered for his own meal, voraciously hungry since he had skipped breakfast.

Spock momentarily abandoned his questionable looking platter in favor of not-frowning at the human across from him, “Jim…you are aware that New Vulcan offers selections of food other than vegetarian, are you not?  You will not be forced to consume food that is not to your preference--”

Jim quickly put down his hamburger, halting him right there as he noticed his First seemed unusually anxious about his pending food consumption, “Spock, stop.  I’m not averse to a little vegetarian now and then.  I’m looking forward to eating something different for a little while.  Besides, we’ll only be there for like…four days, maybe a week.  Seriously, it’s okay,” he smirked impishly, pleased when the Vulcan’s tense shoulders relaxed, “I think I’ll survive.”

Spock’s eyebrow slowly lifted to his hairline, but the faintest hint of a smile curled up one side of his lips, “I do not doubt that, Captain.”  He finally picked up his spoon, and took a cautious bite of the purple soup Jim knew to be plomeek.

As Spock tilted his head, apparently satisfied with the taste, Jim steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them, watching his friend thoughtfully as the Vulcan continued to consume his lunch, “While we’re at it…why’d you invite me, anyway, Spock?  Not that I mind—I’m flattered, actually—but why didn’t you ask Uhura?”

Jim blinked when Spock abruptly set down the spoon he’d been lifting to his lips, straightening imperceptibly when he realized his XO had commenced staring down at his plate without a word.  His brow furrowed, “Spock?  You know I don’t mind, right?  I only wondered why--”

The Vulcan visibly stiffened and Jim cut himself short, startled by the reaction.  Silence stretched between them, uncomfortably thick in a way it hadn’t been since Nibiru.  Then Spock uttered the faintest of sighs, and allowed his muscles to unclench, “It is not…it is not just an ordinary visit to New Vulcan, Jim.”

Slowly, realization dawned on the human and he lifted his chin from his clasped hands to intently regard his friend, “Spock…does this have something to do with why you asked me to bring my dress uniform?”

The lightest of green hues suffused Spock’s cheeks as he folded his hands in his lap and intently studied them, “…Affirmative, Jim.”

Jim all but melted when Spock risked an uncertain glance at him, mentally reviewing all the occasions for which one might need a dress uniform…and settled on the most logical one.

“Aw, Spock,” he teased warmly, “am I your ‘plus one?’”

The verdant green hue that filled Spock’s cheeks in response pretty much confirmed it, “That is correct, Jim.  My father is to bond to T’Paara, his chosen mate.”

Jim, who had gone to take a sip of his Altair water with a smile playing on his lips, now nearly spat it back out, “What?  _Seriously_?”

Spock gave him an irritated glance, “I would not ‘joke’ about this, Jim.”

Jim coughed, vaguely aware of gawping like an idiot, and hastily swallowed another mouthful of water as he cleared his throat, “Er, all right.”

Spock looked startled now, and he straightened, finally meeting Jim’s gaze, “You are not angry?”

Jim rubbed his neck, “Um, no?  Should I be?”

“But I did not inform you before--”

“Spock,” Jim cut him off by reaching across the table and carefully encircling the Vulcan’s wrist with his fingers.  “While it would have been nice to have that warning a little earlier, I don’t mind.  Just…”

Spock had gradually begun to relax under Jim’s reassurance, now he tensed again, prepared to accept whatever displeasure his Captain might express, but clearly experiencing more than a little trepidation about it.

Jim simply shook his head, gently squeezing his friend’s wrist before releasing it, “Just…Spock, are you _sure_ you shouldn’t have asked Uhura?  Generally, girlfriends expect to be invited to these sorts of things.  I can’t imagine she’ll be very happy when she finds out.”

“She was not,” Spock confirmed stiffly.

Jim stared at him for a grand total of two seconds, then leaned his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands with a groan, “Well, crap.  Guess I’m avoiding her for the next week when we get back.”

Spock frowned minutely at him, “Nyota has no reason to be angry with you, Jim.”

Jim chuckled mirthlessly, “Not sure she’d agree with you on that one, buddy.”

Before the puzzled Vulcan could comment on the illogic of that statement, Jim lifted his head and responded lightly, “Female Humans don’t always make sense, Spock.  Just clarify something for me, yeah?” At his XO’s nod, Jim continued, “Despite what you might say, I know you had to at least _anticipate_ her response.  So why did you ask me?”

For a total of four seconds (Jim knew, because he counted), Spock remained silent, dark eyes inscrutable as they watched Jim.  Then, almost imperceptibly, they softened, “I…preferred your company in this instance, Jim.”

Translation:  _I am having a major feelings-crisis and do not want to look uncool in front of my hot girlfriend._

(Jim’s Spock-to-Standard-translator was perfectly functional, thank you.)

Nonetheless, something warm and achy entered Jim’s chest at that admission, and while part of him rather thought Spock should have sucked it up and invited Uhura, he could not prevent a full, genuine grin from lighting up his face.

“I’m honored, Spock,” murmured.

He did _not_ expect the intensity of the gaze that fixed itself on him from across the table at that response.

“Then I am gratified, Jim,” returned just as quietly.

Resisting the sudden urge to squirm, as their conversation entered intimacy levels Jim found nowhere near comfortable, he nodded jerkily and resumed his single-minded annihilation of the burger.

IOIOIOIOIOI

“Aw, crap…!” Jim stopped dead in the middle of a busy concourse, where they had begun heading back to their shuttle.  “I just realized…Spock, bonding is basically Vulcan-marriage, right?”

Spock cocked his head curiously, wondering where this line of questioning was headed, “Essentially, Jim, yes.”

“Then shouldn’t I bring a present for your dad and…I think you called her T’Paara?”

Spock’s brow furrowed lightly, “Jim, I believe I told you earlier…Vulcans do not expect gifts.  The same is true for my father.”

Jim scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah, but you also said your mother always insisted on recognizing the day.  I’d like to do the same for your father’s bonding ceremony.  Would I offend him if I did?”

When Spock said nothing, only stared at him as if Jim were the most fascinating enigma in the universe, the human started fidgeting, “ _Spock_.  He won’t be offended, will he?”

The Vulcan quietly cleared his throat, “I do not believe so, Captain.”

Jim sagged, relieved, “Awesome.  Right, so we have a few days…I’ll think of something.”

Spock appeared to have difficulty speaking, because he cleared his throat again, “I am sure you will, Jim.”

 

_ End Oxymoron (CH. 2) _


	3. Bully For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Spock is homesick (and won't admit it), Stonn is priggish (and denies it), and Jim wishes like hell he could wipe the dirt with the xenophobic bastard. This can't end well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we’re starting to get into the thick of things ::grins::. Most of the Vulcan words you see in this chapter (and there aren’t many) have been taken from the Vulcan-Language Dictionary online that you can link to from Memory Alpha’s website. When Spock and Stonn (yes, he appears ::winks::) begin speaking in Vulcan, it is indicated in the following way:
> 
> “Vulcan (Italics)”
> 
> I hope you enjoy this next installment—I certainly enjoyed writing it!

A blast of heat greeted Jim as he and Spock disembarked from the passenger shuttle 3.79 hours later (per his First Officer’s typically precise timekeeping), and he cast his thoughts to the tri-ox compound Bones had insisted on injecting him with the night before, as well as the five additional hypos his CMO had all but shoved into his bag, because “New Vulcan’s a bloody _pork roaster_ , Jim.  I ain’t in the mood to board a ruddy tin can and deal with a buncha panicky, pointy-eared hobgoblins because ya collapsed from _heatstroke_!”

(Bones was a mother hen, but Jim loved him, anyway.)

The sun had begun to set by the time they arrived planet side, and Spock paused just inside the threshold of the shuttle-port, dark eyes peering out across the white sands gradually turning rose in the sun’s fading light.

That’s when it occurred to Jim that this may well, in fact, be the first time Spock had visited his now-home planet.

“Spock?” he asked softly, coming up beside his XO to rest his hip against Spock’s with the lightest of pressure.  The other shuttle passengers quietly streamed around them.

“The view is pleasing,” but the observation sounded wooden and hollow to Jim’s (by now) well-practiced ear.

“It is,” Jim agreed, watching as the rose light slowly swept along the farthest dunes that his eyes could see.  “But, Spock…” his XO jerked at the sudden interruption of the momentary silence that had fallen between them.

Jim raised his eyes to Spock’s, utterly unaware of the sunlight that caught in them and turned their blue to gold, “It’s okay to miss Vulcan.”

Spock nearly sucked in a sharp breath, thoroughly distracted by the clear compassion displayed in their burnished depths, “It is illogical to miss what no longer exists.”

“I know,” Jim acknowledged gently, pressing his hip a little harder into Spock’s.  “It’s still okay.”

Spock apparently had no response to that, and bowed his head, grip tightening on the strap of his duffle bag.

Jim patiently waited him out, keeping up the pressure on his side as he strove to reassure his XO of his presence.

Several minutes later, Spock rewarded him by minutely relaxing into Jim’s side and hanging his head with a soft sigh.

“…Acknowledged, Jim,” he murmured.

Jim grinned, about to make a smart retort, but found himself suddenly knocked off his feet and into Spock with not-quite-bruising force.

As Spock’s arm immediately wrapped around his waist to steady him, a would-be surprised voice (if its owner weren’t Vulcan and fully cognizant of what had just happened) _almost_ -drawled, “Oh.  My apologies _kelek-aushfa_.  I did not see you there.”

If Spock hadn’t abruptly stiffened against his side, his body rock-hard with tension, Jim still would have identified the speaker as a xenophobic bastard, due to the derision barely concealed in the address.

“Stonn,” Spock intoned woodenly.

Interestedly, Jim glanced up.  Clearly, this Vulcan was known to Spock, and not fondly, either.

Most certainly noticing Jim’s interest, Stonn switched over to Vulcan, _“Home at last, half-breed?”_

At the disgust thickening Stonn’s voice, Jim’s hackles rose.

Spock must have sensed his tension, because the Vulcan pressed a firm hand to his side.  Mutinous, Jim nonetheless subsided, respecting Spock’s wish that he stay out of it.

 _“Indeed, I am,”_ Spock responded mildly.  Also in Vulcan.

Jim nearly rolled his eyes.

 _“Come back to aid the repopulation efforts?  I suppose even a… **disadvantage** has value now,”_ Stonn observed idly.

Jim saw Spock’s jaw clench, and felt his own tighten in reflexive empathy.

When Spock spoke again—still in Vulcan—his voice remained even, with affected disinterest, _“It is only logical to give aid where aid is needed.”_

Stonn almost-scoffed, _“Even where aid is unwanted?  We may **need** your DNA, half-breed, but do not think for a moment that **you** are wanted.  We have little use for anything **but** your DNA here.”_

Jim nearly snarled at the utter contempt that illuminated Stonn’s eyes, tensing against Spock’s restraining hand.

Stonn’s lips all but curled upwards in disdain, as he switched back to Standard, “Do you need a leash, _ron-tu_?”

Spock was not quite so calm this time, and did-not-quite spit out, “Good evening, Stonn,” pulling Jim back by his elbow as he did so.

The traditional Vulcan farewell of “Live long and prosper” was notably absent as Stonn turned away with a not-quite-smirk, and marched off.

Jim huffed, watching him stalk away, “Pleasant guy.  What the _hell_ was his problem?”

Spock seemed to sag, all defiance draining out of him, quite accidentally bringing himself up under Jim’s arm, “A…former classmate of mine.”

“Former _bully_ is more like it,” Jim hissed.

Spock turned quickly at the venom in his voice, “Jim?” he murmured, slightly confused (though God forbid he admit to it).

Jim worked his jaw, lightly gripping Spock by his arm, “Spock, what he said--” Jim could not go on, choking with the effort not to cuss out the prejudiced bastard.

Spock nearly sighed, and slipped out from beneath the human’s arm to explain, voice (and expression) carefully neutral, “It is nothing he has not said before.  And _kelek-aushfa_ …”  He had to pause momentarily, not quite trusting his voice to remain steady, “ _Kelek-aushfa_ means ‘pet’ in Vulcan.  It is what the less…kindly Vulcans used to call my mother when they wished to be derogatory.”

Jim’s jaw clenched so hard it began to ache.  Swinging around to face his XO, Jim squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, “That’s not what I meant, Spock.  I could care _less_ what he called me—I’ve heard worse.  But what he said about _you--_ ”

Jim had worked up a fine head of steam at this point, more than willing to launch into an impassioned defense of his favorite XO, but at that moment, a delighted, rheumy voice hailed them, “Young ones, it’s a pleasure.”

Both younger beings jumped and whipped around, the warmth in the speaker’s voice so diametrically opposite to Stonn’s that it startled them.  The hand Jim had raised to touch Spock’s hair instantly dropped to his side.

Spock seemed to have pulled himself together enough by then that he could easily turn towards the speaker and flash the older Vulcan the _ta’al_ , “Mr. Spock,” he greeted.  “It is pleasing to see you again.”

Ambassador Spock’s eyebrow raised, a hint of a smile softening his gaze, as he returned the gesture, “Indeed, Mr. Spock.  And how is our stalwart Captain?”

Said “stalwart Captain” spoke up irritably, scowling, “I _am_ right here, you know.”

Older Spock turned toward him with what could almost be considered a _grin_ , the damn cheeky bastard, “Ah, so you are, Jim.”

Although Jim pouted at them, he could not quite hide his delight at seeing the older version of his XO again, “I am noticing a distinct lack of the universe ending, Spocks.”

The other eyebrow went up, and the Ambassador was _definitely_ laughing at Jim, damn him, “Are you?  How fascinating.”

Jim rolled his eyes, truly unable to stay irritated at his First Officer in any capacity or form at the moment.

The Ambassador uttered a soft “oh” of surprise when Jim abruptly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace, recalling that the other Jim—despite how desperately he might desire it—could no longer do so.

“I have something for you,” the human murmured into his cloth-covered chest.  “Something important.  It’s from an old…friend.”

Jim had to hide his wince in the older being’s chest as the Vulcan’s grip tightened exponentially around his shoulders, knowing from firsthand experience that the Ambassador was anything but unintelligent, had probably divined who the “old friend” was just from the tone of Jim’s voice, and that, most likely, he had all but short-circuited the supremely logical brain as the Ambassador struggled to come up with an explanation for just _how_ he had managed to acquire that “something” from said “old friend.”

Inhaling sharply, the Ambassador pulled in a few deep breaths, and gently pushed Jim away from his chest.

When Jim glanced up, it was to see tears in those too-human eyes.

The Ambassador cleared his throat, “I look forward to receiving it, Jim.  At another time.  Now is perhaps not…the most opportune moment for such things.  Ambassador Sarek and…T’Paara are expecting you.”

Noting the nearly imperceptible flinch from his own Spock behind him, Jim nodded, affected on a level too deep to adequately voice by the wisp of pure _longing_ he’d only caught a glimpse of as the Ambassador turned away.

Instead, he shifted his attention to his own XO, falling back to brush his fingers along the younger Vulcan’s wrist as they began walking.

Spock lifted his head, nodding to his Captain in reassurance or affirmation (Jim wasn’t sure which).

Jim let out a quiet, relieved breath, squeezing his wrist, before letting go, allowing them to walk more comfortably side by side.

Ahead of them, Ambassador Spock had turned his head to watch their interaction over his shoulder, and Jim flushed at the merriment (however subdued it might be) dancing at him from brown eyes.

There were several messages interwoven in that look, but Jim chose to acknowledge only one, _It **is** pleasing to see you again, old friend._

 

_ End Oxymoron (CH. 3) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan Translations:
> 
> Kelek-aushfa: Pet  
> Ron-tu: Dog-like creature that is supposedly extinct, but was domesticated


	4. (Not) Meeting the In-Laws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jim agreed to be Spock's "plus one," he had not expected this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this chapter was quite a bit longer, but it seemed like too much to read in one go, so I’ve split it up (I may change that later). Sarek finally appears, and I am working to get a grasp on his character. I have an idea about how I want him to act, especially considering later events in the story, but it is taking some experimenting to arrive at a personality I am happy with. Wish me luck!

Twilight had washed across New Shi’Kahr by the time Jim and his traveling companions had arrived at Ambassador Sarek’s hovel, and the first stars peppered the sky.

Jim would have liked to study them, but he was slightly more preoccupied with regaining his breath.  Gratefully, he leaned down and placed his hands on his knees, quietly inhaling several times as he tried to moderate his breathing and ignore the sweat drenching his hair.

“Jim…?” his Spock crouched close, resting a light hand on Jim’s shoulder, dark brows furrowing in concern.

Jim glanced up long enough to shoot him a quirky, reassuring grin, but Spock would not be reassured, and carefully slipped Jim’s bag off his shoulder to sling it over his own.

“You should have told us you needed to rest, Jim,” the younger Vulcan chided softly.  “Dr. McCoy will not be pleased with either of us if you overexert yourself.”

Jim grimaced wordlessly at Spock and exhaled irritably (although not at the Vulcan), “I saw Bones grab you after we had that checkup.  He talked to you, huh?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, “Indeed.  I believe he threatened to 'kick your lily-white ass six ways to Sunday’ if you disobeyed his ‘sound medical advice.’  An interesting proposition, as it has not yet been scientifically proven that there is more than one way to ‘get’ to Sunday.”

Jim smirked, straightening with one last, deep inhale, “It’s an expression, Spock.  What’d he say to you?”

“I would prefer not to disclose it at present,” Spock murmured, blushing verdant green.

Jim snorted, ending it on a laugh, as he imagined what his overprotective CMO and self-appointed, personal physician could have threatened his normally unflappable XO with to produce such an expression.

“You are easily amused,” his Spock observed, (not) petulantly.

Jim grinned widely, “Well, almost nearly dying sorta puts things in perspective.”

He expected Spock to come back with a quip about how illogical that statement was, not the least for its use of two adverbs to describe one verb.

Too late, he noticed the shuttering of Spock’s expression and the almost immediate removal of his First Officer’s hand from his arm.  Belatedly, he realized just how much in bad taste his teasing was, especially in the presence of _these_ two Vulcans.

However, before he could open his mouth to apologize, a throat cleared softly behind him, and he nearly tripped over the steps at his feet as he spun around to face its owner.

…Ambassador Sarek stood in the threshold of his home, lit from behind by the warm orange glow of its interior, raising an eyebrow at Jim in almost an exact replica of his son’s “preferred” expression.

Even as a warm, wrinkled hand landed on his lower back to steady him, Jim mentally groaned, _Way to impress the father-in-law, Kirk._

At the soft, amused huff of air that came from the older Spock at his side, Jim felt his ears turn red.

( _Of course_ the old bastard had received the thought.  Damn touch-telepathy.)

Steadfastly ignoring the older version of his amused XO, Jim discreetly brushed his fingers along the underside of his Spock’s wrist in silent apology, before bringing that hand up in the _ta’al_ , “Ambassador Sarek, thank you for your hospitality.”

If possible, that eyebrow climbed higher, “Captain Kirk, greetings.  I would say that thanks are illogical, but I am also aware Terran culture has yet to do away with that particular platitude.  You are welcome, Captain, for as long as it is logical for you to stay.”

Jim huffed a breath, half of relief, half of startled amusement at what appeared to be an unconscious play on the Terran phrase “you’re welcome.”

At the almost _pleased_ glint in Ambassador Sarek’s dark eyes, however, Jim instantly revised his assessment.

_Oh, my God…I **didn’t** imagine that.  He did it **deliberately**!_

Jim thought he might now know from whom Spock had inherited his unique brand of humor.  Imagined Ambassador Sarek using it on Amanda.  And suddenly, desperately wished she were still alive so he could meet her.

_Oh, Spock, if **this** was what your family was like…_

A gentle squeeze around his bicep startled him back to the present, and blinking, Jim turned his gaze up to the elder Spock’s sorrowful, understanding one.

A lump swelled in his throat upon being confronted by the emotions he knew ran so deeply through both Spocks’ bodies, and he nodded to Ambassador Spock, wordlessly indicating that all was well.

Another squeeze, but as Jim turned his attention back to Ambassador Sarek, older Spock kept his hand where it was.

Jim did not think much of it, clued in by the nature of their two recent exchanges how useful it was to transmit information when one wished to go unheard.  He would have to try it with his own Spock one day.

Ambassador Sarek watched their interaction without expression, but Jim (who considered himself rather an expert at this point on translating Vulcan non-expressions) noticed the almost imperceptible wrinkle in the Vulcan’s forehead as he thoughtfully contemplated them.

Without a word, he nodded to Ambassador Spock—who nodded back—the minute softening of his eyes stirring Jim’s interest, before he turned to the younger version of his son.

“Spock,” intoned almost without inflection, save for the faintest wisp of reprimand that snuck its way into his voice.  “My son…is it not logical to inform your father of your well-being?”

At that moment--as Spock stiffened, jaw setting--Jim recalled _why_ he had gotten to know Spock so much better over the past two and half months: “Ambassador Sarek…!” blurted.  “I am so goddamned sorry!”

Immediately, all three Vulcans’ attention snapped to him.  Not one of them so much as blinked.

“Explain, please, Captain,” Sarek’s request was clipped.

Cheeks flushed fiercely red, but unable to shut up, Jim poured out the rest of his apology, “That’s my fault.  Spock’s been charged with monitoring my health by Bon—our CMO.  He’s done his damnedest to keep me healthy, and I-I’m afraid that rather preoccupied his time.  I-I should have contacted you the moment I--”

Ambassador Sarek quickly held up a hand, instantly silencing the rest of Jim’s rambling apology.

Jim’s cheeks burned, but he kept quiet, acknowledging Ambassador Spock’s fortifying squeeze of his elbow with a wordless rush of gratitude.

“Captain,” an odd inflection entered Ambassador Sarek’s voice and jerked Jim’s attention back to the Vulcan, but he could not translate it properly, too distracted by his thoughts.  “I am aware of the circumstances surrounding your…accident.  No apology is necessary where no offense is taken.”

Jim still felt horribly guilty (of _course_ Sarek had been worried when he hadn’t heard anything from his son, especially considering…everything surrounding the situation), but thought it unwise to say so.  Instead, he swallowed hard and nodded, resolving to speak with his Spock on the matter later.

His Spock, who currently watched him with an intensity that rivaled the look he had given Jim during their lunch on the _Jamestown_.

As Jim determinedly averted his eyes, Spock turned back to his father, a pronounced note of defense in his voice as he finally spoke, “What Jim says is correct, Father, with one exception.  I did, indeed, monitor him at the request of Dr. McCoy, but it was my choice to do so in the first place.  Illogically, I wished to assure myself of his continued existence.”  A pause, and then Spock added, the barest hint of trepidation in his voice, “He is my friend.”

Sarek’s eyebrow slowly crawled to his hairline, far more interest than Jim had expected from this particular Vulcan creeping into his expression as he keenly eyed his son, “Is he indeed, Spock?”

While his Spock blushed faintly green under his father’s scrutiny, Jim tipped his head back to find an overjoyed expression adorning the elder Spock’s face, which promptly morphed into a smug, non-grin that he shot down at Jim the moment he sensed the human watching him, “I did tell you,” murmured delightedly.

Jim rolled his eyes, shamelessly projecting into older Spock’s mind, _You’re one smug bastard, you know?  Isn’t it illogical to say, ‘I told you so’?_

And felt intensely satisfied by the almost wide-eyed look he received in return.

(See?  It wasn’t so difficult to telepathically communicate, after all.)

Bringing his attention back to his Spock and Ambassador Sarek, Jim felt his throat tighten as he watched his friend briefly explain to his father the circumstances that had brought Jim under his XO’s sehlat-like care.

Spock had already called him ‘friend’ once, in the warp core.  And had called him such several times since, albeit never so directly as that first time.

He had never expected Spock to admit so blatantly (at least for a Vulcan) that he had been so worried _because_ Jim was his friend.  Least of all to his very Vulcan father.  Actually, he had not expected Spock to admit his worry _at all_.

He would have thought it illogical.

Ambassador Spock’s hand suddenly brushed against his back, “You will find, Jim,” the older version of his First murmured, “that many things my younger self thinks are illogical do not apply to you.”

Jim’s throat went tight all over again.  He cleared it, “Really?” it sounded more fragile than he would have liked.

Soft brown eyes met his own, and the Ambassador quite deliberately leaned into Jim’s shoulder, transmitting though their touch, _Indeed.  I speak from experience, after all._

At that moment, Ambassador Sarek quietly cleared his throat, apparently done greeting (well, scolding) his son, “Captain, you are hungry, are you not?”

Wrenching his haywire emotions under control, Jim cleared his own throat and grinned, “When am I not?”

This time the eyebrow raised at _him_ , the faintest tug of a smile catching at the corner of Sarek’s lips, “So I surmised.  T’Paara will be most pleased.  She has worked hard to put together an evening meal you might enjoy.”

Although not explicitly stated, the “you” clearly included Spock, as well, if the non-expression Sarek leveled at his son was anything to go by.

Somehow, with everything that had happened in the past few hours, Jim had forgotten their original purpose for being here.

Now, as he caught the look of sympathy and sorrow Spock Prime sent at the rigid posture of his younger counterpart, Jim swallowed, girding himself to be the support his own Spock so obviously needed right now.

Flashing his brightest smile at Sarek, Jim allowed himself to feel fully how touched he was that T’Paara had thought of him at all, and murmured, “I am honored, Ambassador.”

Perhaps he knew Jim was categorically speaking for his son, as well, because his eyes softened, before turning to Spock the elder, “Ambassador Selek, T’Paara and I would be most appreciative of your presence—both tonight, and at our bonding ceremony.”

Jim sensed the threads of an old (and oft-repeated) argument in that almost-plea as his earlier suspicions were confirmed.  Not that Vulcans “argued,” that was too illogical, but…

When he agreed to be Spock’s “plus one,” he hadn’t expected this.  Most likely, it wasn’t any of his business, but when it came to Spock, perhaps he was just as illogical as the Ambassador implied his younger self to be when it came to Jim.

Turning the same smile up to Ambassador Spock as he had to the Vulcan’s father, albeit with a twist of winsome compassion, Jim added cheerily, “Come on, Selek.  Please?  I need someone to make sure I don’t commit any cultural faux pas.”

He did not add that his own Spock could just as easily do the same.

(Hey, he needed _some_ sort of logical argument, and that was just as good as any!)

Older Spock opened his mouth to refute him, “Jim, I--”

Then closed it, when Jim pulled out the big guns, using his blue eyes shamelessly to his advantage, “ _Please_?”

It was, quite possibly, the first time he’d ever seen his XO speechless.  Dimension-crossing, time-traveling version or not.

_ End Oxymoron (CH. 4) _


	5. Derivational Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock Prime has some insights and observations to share with Jim. Jim ends up sharing some insights and observations of his own with the older version of his favorite XO...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally this chapter has taken on a form I am at least pleased with. It’s mainly a setup for what comes after, but important in its own way. Plus, Jim has some serious one-on-one time with Spock Prime. What’s not to like about that? I hope you enjoy!

Jim’s Spock immediately subjected him to The Eyebrow, as well as an unnervingly focused expression that told the _Enterprise_ ’s Captain, in no uncertain terms, that he _would_ be explaining later.

At that moment, his Spock suddenly turned to his older counterpart, and with perhaps even more compassion than Jim, murmured, “Please do, Ambassador.  I am uncertain if I can weather this particular human’s brand of logic for long.”

Jim actively resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at his snarky XO, aware that Spock (however indirectly) was both teasing and reprimanding him for his gentle manipulation of the older Vulcan.  Instead, he chose to focus on the warm glow that always surfaced in his chest whenever Spock did something so unexpectedly _human_.

(It would have just proven Spock’s point, anyway.)

Jim did not dare examine the older Spock’s expression after that, knowing that his First Officer affected him in ways he wasn’t yet comfortable with acknowledging.  So, when Ambassador Spock pulled his countenance under control and turned back to Sarek, Jim breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.

Gently, older Spock inclined his head, “I am gratified by your invitation, Ambassador Sarek, and shall endeavor to attend the gathering.”

To say Jim had not expected Sarek’s response was a bit of an understatement:

“Fascinating,” Spock’s father murmured, and his eyebrow jumped up in direct correlation with the dry remark.

Jim desperately choked back a laugh, although it was clear from the Eyebrow he received in stereo that both Spocks, at least, had observed his amusement and knew where it stemmed from.

Maybe Sarek knew, too, because he wore that almost-smirk Jim had grown familiar with over the course of his service alongside his XO.

Stepping back, Sarek beckoned them through the door, “Please come in.  T’Paara will be expecting us shortly.”

As Sarek swept in ahead of them, Jim turned his brightest, most fortifying grin to both Spocks and made to follow.

To his surprise, Ambassador Spock stopped him, stepping forward to touch the back of his hand, “A moment, please, Jim.”

Slightly startled, and a little confused, Jim paused, “Um, sure.  Just hang on a minute, yeah?”

When the Ambassador did not ask what he should “hang on” to, and released him without a word, Jim knew that whatever this was, it was pretty serious.  However, …

“Spock,” he kept his voice as gentle as he knew how, reaching out to lightly snag his own First’s elbow as Spock passed him on his way up to the top step.

The Vulcan tilted his head, regarding Jim (not) curiously, “Jim?”

“Is it okay?” still gentle.

Spock blinked at him, clearly unsure what he meant by the question, “Jim, you do not need my permission to--”

“ _Spock_ ,” Jim shook his head, watching the Vulcan intently, “is it _okay_?  I mean, did you need me to…?” he gestured helplessly between them and the door.

Perhaps Amanda’s human intuition had rubbed off on Spock a little, for his furrowed brow smoothed almost instantly, and he regarded Jim with a sort of benign, non-expression that caused his chest to ache and his heart to feel entirely too full, “Do not concern yourself with my welfare, Jim.  I will be fine.”

Before Jim could echo the retort Spock had made earlier today—about ‘fine’ having variable definitions—the Vulcan slipped from his grasp and into his family’s hovel with their bags, quietly leaving the door ajar behind him.

Beneath his breath, Jim growled, “ _Bullshit_.”

A polite cough startled his attention back to the older Spock who had remained standing behind him.

Briefly, Jim blushed, sinking to the ground and sitting on the steps below him with a groan, “I don’t think I can do this,” he muttered, scrubbing his face with his hands.

Gracefully, Ambassador Spock sank down into the lotus position in front of him, crossing his legs at their ankles.  It was so similar to how his Spock often sat in the apartment they’d shared with Bones during the past two months that Jim had to smile wryly.

“You are a tough nut to crack, you know,” he murmured softly.  “I don’t know how the hell to get through to you half the time.”

Older Spock gave him the Eyebrow this time, “I am not a walnut, Jim.  However, I do not believe you need fear your inability to ‘crack’ me, as you say—I was under the impression that you already knew quite well how to convince me.”  He gave Jim a pointed look.

The human blushed harder, rubbing the back of his neck, “Erm, yeah.  Sorry about that.  I just didn’t think you’d have agreed to Ambassador Sarek’s request otherwise.”

The Ambassador eyed him kindly, “No apology is necessary where no offense is taken,” he murmured, echoing his father.

At Jim’s brief, fleeting smile, older Spock inclined his head, “Regardless, Jim, there are several things I wish to speak with you about out of my younger self’s hearing, as it would cause him undue stress.”

“Um, Spock, just so you know, I’ve never really had any luck keeping secrets from you, about you, even if it _is_ you who told me about them…erm, if that even makes sense.”

The briefest flit of a smile touched the Vulcan’s lips as he acknowledged, “Very little, Jim.  Perhaps I meant to imply you should use your discretion when speaking with him—it is unwise to manipulate the time stream too much.  Additionally, Jim, now is not…the most prudent time to bring it up, when he is struggling to accept our father’s decision to bond with…T’Paara.”

Jim gave the older version of his XO a knowing look, “I think he’s not the only one.”

Older Spock sighed softly, “You are as infuriatingly perceptive as ever, Jim.”

Jim smirked self-consciously, shrugging lightly, “Hey, I _was_ the only ‘genius-level repeat offender’ in the Mid--” his breath caught, as he recalled who had said those words and, subsequently, who was no longer alive to repeat them.

“Jim…” older Spock’s eyes were sad.

Blinking repeatedly, Jim willed back the hot prick of tears at the corner of his eyes and shook his head, “Never mind.  What was it you wanted to talk about?  Younger you will start wondering where we are if you don’t--”

“ _Jim_ ,” older Spock interrupted him, reaching out to clasp his wrist, “I grieve with thee.”

Jim's clogged throat refused to let him respond to that heartfelt response at first, but then he nodded his head in acknowledgement of the condolence and cleared his throat, “You…I mean, younger you…said that, too.  I…it’s one of the reason I’m trying so hard to, well…” The human felt his cheeks burn, and he promptly decided to abandon that rambling conversational thread.  He swiped discreetly at his eyes, “So?”

Ambassador Spock gave him a look that said he knew Jim was evading, but (thankfully) did not pursue that line of discussion any further.  Gently, he retracted his hand and folded both graceful appendages in his lap, regarding Jim pointedly, “My younger self is distressed.”

Jim repressed a small snort, “Well, yeah, that’s kinda obvious.  I mean--”

Ambassador Spock interrupted him, “By your death, Jim.”

Startled, Jim scowled, “You weren’t exactly sanguine yourself, Ambassador,” groused, as he recalled the rather stricken Vulcan whom Bones had received a holovid from one day in Starfleet Medical, when their Spock had been called to an emergency meeting of the Admiralty.  “I didn’t realize you even _knew_ Bones—well, _my_ Bones, anyway.”

“There were several events about which I thought he needed to be aware,” returned with the same infuriating serenity that Jim both admired and found incredibly irritating in his own First Officer.

“So of course, it was logical for you to inform him, but not _me_.”

Older Spock studied his fingernails, “If you are referring to the tribble incident on K7 near Sherman’s Planet, I merely thought he would appreciate the warning.”

Unable to help himself (or stay irritated at any version of his XO for long), Jim barked out a laugh, “I think we all would have, Spock.  In any case,” he turned serious, “I know he’s still having trouble with it.  Kinda hard not to when I notice the reaction he has to joking about it.”

“I do not believe his reaction was to your ‘joke,’ Jim—although I cannot say it would have been any different had it been, in truth.”

Jim perked up, interested, “No?  Then what…?”

“You did not see, but our father appeared on the top step just as you shared your sentiment.  I believe it was in response to Ambassador Sarek’s appearance that my younger counterpart reacted in such a manner.  I have not always had…the best relationship with my father.  I imagine it is much the same for him, especially with our father’s decision to bond with T’Paara.”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Jim blurted out incredulously.  “He _loves_ you, Spock, surely you must see how illogical it is to think otherwise!  _That_ ,” he jerked his thumb pointedly over his shoulder at the still partially-open door behind him, “is not the reaction of a father who wants nothing to do with his son.!”

 _I ought to know_ , he thought quietly.

The Ambassador jerked back, (not) startled by the vehemence in Jim’s voice.  They stared at each other for a little while, neither backing down…until the older version of his XO heaved a soft, half-irritated, half-fond breath, “I concede your point.  This Sarek…is quite different from the Vulcan I knew, I shall grant you that.”

 _He’d have to be_ , Jim added mentally, but did not say, _after losing Amanda.  It’s only logical._

Perhaps the Ambassador heard him, anyway, because he inhaled quietly and stood up, dusting off his tunic and pants, “I believe we have been out here quite long enough.  They will be expecting you.”

“They will be expecting us _both_ ,” Jim rebuffed, quite emphatically, as he accepted the offered arm up.

They clearly hadn’t discussed everything Ambassador Spock intended to, but Jim knew when he had made his First Officer uncomfortable, despite the many years’ difference between this one and his own.

Ambassador Spock knew it, too.  Easily, he stepped back, slipping out of Jim’s grip, “Ah, but I did not say _which_ gathering I would attend.”

Jim really did snort this time, “No, you implied it would be both.  Now, come on,” he hooked his arm through the elder Spock’s and gently pulled, “They’re _certainly_ waiting for us by now.  I’m not letting you get out of this one.  Captain’s orders.”

“…You are, as ever, a strangely remarkable human, Jim,” Ambassador Spock observed softly, allowing himself to be tugged through the door.

They left a New Vulcan night behind them, speckled with stars.

 

 

_ End Oxymoron (CH. 5) _

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this series comes from Disney’s Mulan; specifically, it comes from the advice that the Emperor gives Shang at the end of it, “The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of them all.” I thought it was appropriate for both Jim and Spock (at least how I conceive them).


End file.
